Late Night Thought and Some Writing

I was having a conversation with my friend Ben the other day regarding writing. I had picked up an issue of Writer's Digest and had been thumbing through the articles when he stopped by the house. He is working on his Master's in English, which involves writing a novel. While we were talking, I happened upon a passage of advice in which the columnist stated that it was more important to write something down than to write something polished.

I realized at that point that I had been focusing too much on writing a polished piece of work rather than simply getting the story down onto paper. As such, I've decided that once in a while I will throw up excerpts from bits I'm writing on here. There is no promise you will be able to read a finished product of the given story...but at least I'm putting some writing up!

A TEXT UNTOLD

Bentley Square was a commotion, primarily due to the Bendenshire Theater's opening of the new Vlamatti play, ' Barathrum'. From my third story apartment I could hear the clopping and rattling of horse drawn carriages as drivers chauffeured the rich and powerful to what would be a critically acclaimed evening. I watched from my window as they maneuvered down the cobblestone street and pulled around to the grand entrance of Bendenshire Theater. The occupants of the carriages, dressed in lavish attire, were there greeted by the head usher, Barth Grove. Barth was an acquaintance of mine, for he lived on the floor below my own and we had shared a drink or two at the Third Tier many a time. Tonight he was dressed in his brilliant blue uniform, complete with the almost military looking cap.

A finer looking gent tonight there is not, Barth, I thought as I allowed a brief smile before turning my back on the events and stepping back to my desk.

I was in my study, a small room which also served as my sleeping quarters. My bed was a thin mattress with a few well aged blankets and a slowly leaking feather pillow. Truth be told, despite it’s ragged appearance, I rarely used it this time of year. Autumn brought with it wretched fits of insomnia, an illness that had plagued me since childhood. Lacking sleep had provided me with a lithe figure and I often found myself wracked with a cough in the winter.

There was a cure of sorts. As I sat down, my eyes drifted to the top right drawer of my desk. Within was a small bag containing a spot of tobacco that I had mixed with opium. Truth be told, it was more like opium flavored with a bit of tobacco. The trance I fell into after subjecting myself to a few puffs on my pipe was surreal, though it was the deep slumber which came afterwards that I sought after. I tried to keep clear of the small bag, however, for Madeline very much hated it when she found me under it’s hypnotic spell.

Not tonight, however. Despite the little voice in the back of my mind telling me I could use a puff, tonight there was far too much work to be done. Atop my desk was a small, leather bound book, resting on the brown paper wrapping it had been mailed to me in. It had only come into my possession that morning, sent by a Mister Jonathan R. Irewood along with twenty imperial notes as payment. The task I was to undertake was a translation of the given text.

Bullets and Blues (a brief excerpt)

The bird from the clock popped out like a jack-in-the-box to let me know six o' clock had finally checked in with Father Time. Millie, my receptionist, had taken off at five, leaving me the office to myself for an hour. I signed off on the last of my reports to be filed then flipped close the folder and slid it off to the side of my desk. As I pulled open the top, right-hand drawer and fetched the familiar bottle of my best friend, I stood and walked over to the globe sitting in the corner by the window. I tilted the top, causing it to separate and reveal several short whiskey glasses within. I took one and closed the globe before pouring myself a helping of the amber liquid from the bottle. I walked to the window behind my chair and glanced down into the rainy streets where I saw people briskly walking to their destinations, most under cover of an umbrella or newspaper.
There was a knock at the front door but I ignored it. Millie would have locked it and set the sign to 'closed'. She knew the last hour here was for myself, not clients. Clearly, someone felt their time was more important than my own.
The knocking persisted and my casual, feigned ignorance turned into a grimace. They weren't planning on leaving anytime soon. I turned and set the bottle and half-finished glass on my desk before crossing the room and stepping out into the reception area. It was slightly smaller than my fifteen by fifteen foot office. Millie's desk was off to the left, immaculate as she always left it. She had even turned off the lights, letting only the faint glow of my desk lamp and the dreary light of the rainy day stretch towards the hallway door, an ambition that fell just short. Someone was expecting me to still be here.

Hamsters

This has nothing to do with hamsters, I simply couldn't think of a title. Odd that my least favorite of the rodent family was the first thing to pop into my head.

Last Saturday was the reception for my cousin's wedding. Her family moved to Saipan several years ago and I really hadn't seen her much, save it be the occasional visit. I don't remember how young she was when her family left, but I know that seeing her sitting at the head table in a wedding dress next to her husband, was about the most surreal experience I can lay claim to in quite some time. Even now as I write '..her husband..' it doesn't seem right. This was the little girl who used to curl up in the recliner and suck on her middle and ring finger like it was some form of life support.

It got me thinking about my own life a lot, though. I started thinking about where I am, my intentions for the near and far future and what was more likely to happen. I began thinking about how unhappy I am in life with a lot of aspects and my overall disgruntlement in who I am. This all lead me to sit down and ask myself a very important question: what is going to make you happy?

Obviously you can't correct things overnight. There's a lot to do. Fortunately, I'm only 26 and while that's not 18, it still leaves me some time to figure things out. I'd like to be the guy sitting at the head table sometime. I'd like to know that I had an honorable relationship with my girlfriend til she was my fiance and my fiance til she was my wife.

So, self, let's see where this goes. There are some changes to be made and some of them are going to be incredibly difficult. Though, as a great man once said, " I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it.'' I'm banking on that.